Cherry
by MarySueIsDead
Summary: My heart cries at your absence.


_**Cherry**_

 _ **Written by MarySueIsDead**_

 _ **Originally posted November 18, 2011**_

 _ **XOXOX**_

The black wax dripped down the tender side of her temple, smoothly intertwining with the short crisp stubs of dark hair that covered both sides of her scalp and also the majority of the back of her head.

It then curled it's substance around another fluid that made its way over her cheekbones. One composed of saltine and water; the mixture following gravity's law until it mutely dripped onto the pale striped lines of her pillow below, the only comfort holding her mind right now.

She had debated on calling him. Letting him know that she was physically safe and back in town. However, she couldn't say the same for her sanity as dreams of soft motherly hands and cherry red lipstick giggled its way through the crevasses of her fractured brain. It left a tingling sensation on her iron encrusted lips.

She gave them a tiny lick, her wax covered eyelids tightening in frustration as the taste had not encompassed the memory she so cherished and desired to bring back.

A long sigh exited the woman's lungs and she finally opened her tired eyes in the dim of her quiet apartment. She didn't have a roommate nor did she want one. The silence was something that gave her an extreme sense of ease.

Sometimes she would just lay there on her bed. Deadly still as the daylight and hours burned away and into the evening. The fan's rotation had become her best friend compared to her common sleepless nights of the echoes. Echoes of men and women's harrowing pleads and cries. Echoes of images in her mind of the color red. Echoes of the gut searing guilt. And echoes of a childhood she had once lost.

Childhood was really all that she ever willingly brought into her conscious.

She had gone into that lifelong shock when the news made its way to her innocent ears. She was just a young girl. So full of life and spunk. Maybe a little bratty at times, and maybe somewhat spoiled, but never faltering to let her generous parents know that she adored and loved them.

But now her Mother and Father were gone. Here one moment, vanished the next. And there was nothing she could do within her juvenile body. No amount of tears could wash away the loneliness or heartache. The love once bonded, now broken. And the worst part was, the funeral had been appointed on her tenth birthday. Supposed to be filled with chuckles of surprises, gifts filled with the lush euphoria that came when you turned two digits, and the teasing pinches and kisses of parents that stopped their world just for you.

She had distinctively remembered promises. Sweet, sweet promises. Promises that were one of the very few things that made her heart swell.

She would purposely bring them forth into her awareness when she would kick her feet through the hard middle-eastern soil and foreign air. As heavy tears would cloud her vision while warm crimson blood smoothly moved in and over her fingers, trying to pressure and cover up a wound that could not be mended. As her voice would crack, staring into life dwindling eyes, consoling the comrade that they would be okay. That they would see their family again.

She would think of her darling Mother's promises as she would break out into agonizing sobs and cradle the lifeless body of her militant colleague, former friend.

A bright glistening window would always play into view with a honey sun warming the expanded and decorative bedroom that her Mother and Father both shared.

She would watch with wide, kitten-like eyes as her Mother would take a large brush with bushy tan bristles and run it over her radiant raven strands of hair, reflecting the shimmer and shine of the rays peeking in on them.

Brooke would look over and give an amused grin at her daughter's interested speculations and she would ask with playful intentions, "Darling, would you like to borrow your Mother's comb?"

The nine year old would nod her head eagerly and gently take the brush from her Mother's hands, carefully gripping the wooden handle and giving soft strokes to her own night sky hair.

The two would share a loving grin together as the woman would then browse her organized vanity table for the next task of her morning routine. She would elegantly pick out a small iridescent golden tube and when she would give a tug of the cap, the cherry red lipstick would be revealed.

 _The girl gasped and wrapped her hands together in a flightless plead. "Oh, Mother please. PLEASE, let me wear some!"_

 _Her Mother raised her elegant brow as the smooth scarlet color was applied to her lips. "Sweetheart, you know the rules of your Father and I. No makeup until you're thirteen."_

 _The girl's lower lip puckered out in symphony with her attempts but her clever Mother didn't bat a long eyelash. "Please? Can't we lower it?"_

 _Brooke pretended not to listen as she stared directly into the mirror, precisely matching the ruby shade with the lines of her pursed lips._

" _Please, Please, Please, Mother! Just for one day!" she thought quick for a moment then came up with a reasonable solution. "My tenth birthday! All my friends will be there, and it would be the coolest thing ever! None of them get to wear makeup yet! Oh, Mother, please, please-"_

" _Alright." The woman replied sternly, a tad annoyed by her stubborn daughter's diligence, but a smile at her own childhood similarity. "Just for your birthday. Then you have to wait till you're thirteen."_

 _The girl's motivated lower lip instantly stretched into a grin and she held out her pinky finger. "Promise?"_

 _The Mother just laughed and returned the gesture by lifting her own pinky and wrapping it around her daughter's. "I promise."_

The memory had faded into a well kept place of her psyche as the girl, now woman, sat up on her sheet-less bed. She hadn't gotten around to decorating the apartment or even stocking it with necessary supplies since she had moved in two weeks prior.

The mattress gave a weak squeak as she got up from it and walked the short span to the bathroom, flicking on the dying light bulb.

She didn't look up at her reflection for a while. Standing in front of the mirror, her thin and lanky form, along with the sink's dull porcelain, were the only things her eyes could see. It wasn't until she decided to lift her palm up to her mouth, that she raised her irises up to the haunting manifestation as well.

The shape of her eyes no longer resembled that of a kitten, but more of a creature; a creature of the night. Globs of the dark mascara smeared across the bone structure of her brows and eye sockets. The skin had been completely tainted black and it wasn't the only thing that was stained upon her human pelt.

The woman opened her mouth to wrap her teeth around the side of her palm, slowly sinking her incisors into the flesh until pain and blood broke out.

She took her hand and tenderly draped it over her lips, letting the red liquid smear over the caucasian skin. Watching the crimson color glint in the bathroom's illumination as her hand then hesitantly went up to touch the top of her head where a small crop of hair remained. Her scarred fingers fidgeted as she felt the softness of what locks were growing from her dwindling crew cut.

Tears brewed over her left eye as the right remained dry; a jagged group of pale scars delicately painted upon her right temple, snaking their way to her ear. Unable to hear the whiny calls of alley cats from outside. Unable to make out her own reflective image of gloom. It was the punishment for her tardiness, inelegance, and disobedience.

She couldn't help it. It was another friend, one that she actually could've availed.

Through his cries and screams she couldn't hear his warnings. Through the blood dripping from his nose and mouth she couldn't make out his words. And it wasn't until her right ear heard its last explosion did she know that her faction was running through a charming field of deadly mines. A scream leaving her mouth as the right side of her face was brutally punctured by the shrapnel, piercing her vision and both blowing out her audible range.

 _ **XOXOX**_

She walked down the cracked and rugged cement of Hillwood sidewalks. Something else that the Middle East couldn't take away from her. A childhood well spent by ice cream jingles, rattling school bells and faded buildings.

She tried keeping a list. It was one of the positive things she did. One of the things her therapist encouraged her to do when the army discharged her back to Texas. To keep a list of all the good things, and try to dwell on those memories.

There was no helping that it might be hard not to dwell on some of the bad ones, but if the army taught her anything, it was to be strong. If not for yourself, for others.

The raven haired woman closed her eyes as she brooded upon another good memory, probably the only one that had helped her through her parent's passing. But her reverie was interrupted as a little bell clinked from a small shop down the sidewalk. A black haired young man exited the dry cleaners with a broom, and swept the dirt matted cement out front.

As she recognized him her scar tightened, her cheeks rising with happiness, her blank eye even trying to well a tear.

He looked up casually, but his response to her upcoming presence was no casual thing when his eyes widened and his broom immediately dropped to the ground.

Her wax covered eyes had been washed off by now, but a trail of water streaked down her cheeks as he then instinctively ran to the familiar woman. Her cataleptic heart spiking back to life as he fell into her and his arms clung around her waist. Her form was embraced longingly, affectionately.

She returned the hold, slowly resting her head upon his, his shorter stature giving her support. Fingers adhering to his lively and restless body.

" _Am I dreaming…?"_ he whispered dubiously into her washed out t-shirt.

She wished her first response was no, but honestly she couldn't tell. Her whole life had turned into a dream after the accident. It seemed as if her youthful body had gone comatose at the funeral when the shock really kicked in. But it never seemed like reality to her.

Even after she had been sent to live with her child hating, dreadful Aunt, and decade long widow, Julia Harr, life still seemed like a dream. That she would wake up one day, being kissed atop the forehead by her beautiful mother, and have breakfast with her two loving parents.

A ten year old could only soak in so much, and the delusion turned into a nightmare when her Aunt didn't allow sleepovers, games, dress-ups, mall trips, creativity, imagination and worst of all, makeup in her household.

" _I hate children, I've always hated children, and I've never wanted one! Especially a spoiled brat like you! Your father was a spoiled brat, grew up into a money hungry bastard, married that whore of a woman, and spat out a little monster like you!"_

Aunt Julia was the ogre of her nightmare that played out day by day until she turned eighteen. No more riding the bus to P.S.118. No more contemporary music or dressing pretty. And definitely no more talk about models or fashion magazines. If even a word was uttered of her passionate imaginings, she would be sent to her room for the rest of the day with a bar of noxious soap shoved far into her mouth.

The only thing that Aunt Julia did allow her to do was chores around the house and yard, pick up the groceries and receive mail.

The day her nightmare seemed to lighten a little was a day much like the others. It had been almost a year since her parents passing, and her hands had been trembling like usual. They had picked up a certain twitch from the scabbing and constant scarring of the ever growing rose bush in the front yard that Aunt Julia had hated and wanted plucked out every time it sprouted a buoyant bud.

A man in a blue uniform had walked to the mailbox that resided just by the metal gate where the rose bush seemed to perpetually grow, looking down slightly at the roughed up girl before him. He smiled a little. "Would you happen to be Miss Lloyd?"

She hesitated, not hearing the name for a long while, but finally turned her head up; eyes squinting at the man's silhouette against the hot sun. "Yes. That's me."

His grin stretched and he lowered a hand into his carry-on bag, pulling out an envelope and handing it down to her. "I have a letter for you."

The raven haired girl curiously took it into her filthy and scratched fingers. "Are you sure?" she asked intuitively, but when her eyes crossed over the address and her name above it, it definitely was for her. Her heart bounced in a shock when she read over the address of the sender, and gave a grateful nod to the mailman. "Thank you, Sir."

He gave a courteous nod as well and as he continued his daily routine, the girl had bolted past the side of the ugly paneled house and to the rough backyard where she hid behind a large rugged hedge that secluded her from Aunt Julia's view from the scolding window.

She opened the letter, carefully pulling out the written note as if it were a sacred document. Reading over its words as her trodden heart started to ascend with each caring and soothing sentence.

 _Dearest Rhonda,_

 _I'm sorry it has taken me so long to find your address, but my love, I was not informed that your relative did not live in Washington or Idaho._

 _My heart cries at your absence, and I have been suffering without your glamorous glares in my direction for the past several months._

 _How are you, Sweetheart? Have you made friends at your new school? Is the living situation with your Aunt content and pleasant? I do hope I have found the right location. Many occasions my letters have been returned, but I have a certain feeling that I was correct this time._

 _I don't want to ask, but a pain in my stomach makes me do so, how are you managing your parents transitory? It kills me that I was not at the funeral, especially since it was also the wonderful ritual of your passing of youth, but you were in my thoughts always, Darling._

 _I wished I could have comforted you if that was what you needed or lend a hand if that was what you wanted. I wish I could have been beneficial to your ulterior necessities, but I was not, and my thoughts lash at me so._

 _But now I have found you, and I know I'm not what you've ever wanted, but for what it's worth, I love you, Rhonda, and you've always known it._

 _I hope it wouldn't be too much to ask for your response or even chiding; it would mean the world to me. You've always been on my mind, and it worries me that you might not be alright. So if you ever would grace me with your retort, I would be more than happy to reciprocate the gesture._

 _Sincerely Yours,_

 _Thaddeus Gammelthorpe_

She spilled her guts to him. She told him everything, every bad feeling she had ever felt in that house, around Aunt Julia. She cried onto the letters and sent them to him, always getting a prompt response full of heed and concern. He was her ticket out of the nightmare, and they had written back and forth for the upcoming years.

She could handle life a little bit more knowing that there was someone out there that cared for her well being. That listened to her thoughts and opinions, and felt the pain of her situation, every time she felt it.

It had become a very delicate and revered relationship to her, so quiet that not even the mailman could catch a glimpse of the billowing happiness that made her stomach suck in a little each time she received a letter.

Sorry to say, the two couldn't be reunited until transportation was no longer an issue.

After he had turned the legal age to drive, the boy had bought a car as soon as he was able, and promised he would visit her within a week. He had promised flowers, red licorice and forgotten melodies of music, but she kindly requested he bring something else. A small tube of cherry red lipstick.

They met in the parking lot of a local general store, a couple miles away from Aunt Julia's antagonistic house.

The sixteen year old girl's face brightened as he exited the car, a bouquet of crimson roses in one hand, a bag of red licorice in the other. A tiny twinge tickling her throat. Not that she didn't enjoy the gifts he had generously brought for her, but there was one in particular she was hoping for.

A thinner frame of glasses resided on the bridge of his nose as his eyes squinted behind them in an overly contented smile. It wasn't the same girl he remembered. This one was older; her slender form whisked away by a large white t-shirt and run down jeans, but it was the same Rhonda. The same eyes. The same hair. The same lips. His mouth opened in an expressive grin as he neared her.

The raven haired girl's smile faltered a bit as she asked, "Did you-"

"Yes, I brought the item you requested, Sweetheart." His brow rose playfully. "Do people not greet one another around here with a hello anymore?"

She looked down bashfully for a moment for doubting him and let out a yearning and heart swelling, "Hello." It was the first hello for a long time.

"Hello." He returned the tone and bent forward to plant a soft kiss upon her cheek.

Her shy yet blissful expression faded when she browsed over the items he was carrying again. "Honey, it was very sweet of you to bring me these things but…Julia wouldn't dare let me bring them into the house."

He gave a swooning blink and said cordially. "Well, that doesn't mean you can't enjoy these things for the time being while I'm here." His grin turned mischievous. "Isn't there a super secret spot you told me about over our letters? Maybe I could give you the other item I brought if you bring me there."

She let out a chuckle. "Of course I'll bring you there, but you better not tell anyone where it is or even that it exists." She chided lightheartedly, something that she didn't do with anyone else.

 _ **XOXOX**_

It wasn't a long walk to the beach, and to her delight, they even held hands along the way there. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt the warm touch of another human. The affectionate and unconditional caress of another's hands upon her own.

It made the happiness billow again in her stomach, and her heart puff against her sternum when she would catch him looking over at her throughout their walk and pleasant discussions. She never found anyone looking at her like that.

The boys at school never looked at her like that. They looked at the girls that wore makeup and dressed stylishly. The girls that had self confidence and no worries while she would stand idly aside and try to fathom a former life of polished nails and designer hats.

Living with Aunt Julia had destroyed her soul, but talking with Thaddeus gave her a sense of hope, of belonging and courage.

He looked away from her and at the wooden structure residing alone on the sandy beach. He nodded towards it. "Is that it?"

She smiled as she looked away from him as well, letting go of his hand only to reach the small shack in the sand and run her scarred hands across its washed up boards. She nodded. "When I was younger, the teenagers would hang out here and smoke. But since then, they've migrated to other hang out spots, and this old lifeguard shack has become abandoned…" she stared out into the dark navy sea, a grey overcast sky covering the horizon. "No one really swims out here…it was an ideal location some decades ago…but…" she shrugged and her small smile returned. "I guess the sun just doesn't come here so often anymore."

He interlaced his fingers with hers again. "I think it's beautiful." And gently pressed his lips to the side of her temple. "Like you."

A blush graced her pale cheeks and she gestured to the wooden construction, "You want to check it out?"

He nodded willingly. "I would love to."

 _ **XOXOX**_

The inside of the old hovel was to her surprise, how she had left it when she had visited it last. Very few spider webs and dust, as she had swept most of the room's aging out it's small broken window.

The raven haired girl looked around the little space and gave a satisfying smile as her thin hands fell upon her waist. "I came in here and gave it a good cleaning just last week…" she turned to him as he encouraged her speculations by looking around in a contented manner.

"It's the best lifeguard shack I've ever laid eyes on."

She gave a soft laugh. "Well, sometimes on sunny days, I'll find a cat in here nestling, and she won't run away when I eat my lunch or do homework." She shrugged and rubbed her arm absently. "I named her Nadine."

He smiled at her. "So you do your homework in here?"

She nodded. "And sometimes just to get away and think." She gazed at the structure's soiled and cracked timber ceiling. "It's a nice quiet box to think in."

He casually sat down against the back wall of the small scope. "Thinking about pleasant things I hope."

She gave him a shy smile and nodded again. "Mostly about you." And sat down against the wall opposite to him. The room was diminutive, and their legs were able to grace each others.

There were quiet waves from outside of the structure as they sat in the calm stillness of it. The two enjoyed the small dim scenery of the wood surrounded room, and catch each other's eyes every other second or two.

He finally stretched a wider grin onto his lips when he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small golden tube.

When the sparkle of the metallic design caught her eye from her visual daydreams, her pupils dilated and she let out a small inaudible gasp in her throat.

The black haired boy let out a kind laugh. "Here you go, I didn't forget." He said handing it out to her, but she didn't reach for it at first.

It was as if that little golden tube held a magnitude of power, almost too much for her to handle. Too sacred for her to touch. It almost aggrieved her to look at it, a surge of fragile memories being brought to the surface.

He could see the confliction in her face, but he remained silent as she finally and apprehensively, reached out and took it into her hands…

She closed her eyes. Tears welling under her lids as she gradually pressed the cool tube up to her cheek, feeling its firm curves, it's small supremacy.

The boy's features softened as her watched her, his heart falling apart quietly.

She would take off the top, stare at the red colored wax for a couple seconds, only before putting the cap back on, then off again. She would close her eyes and smell the odd substance and the procedure continued until she finally found the courage to press the little stick of ruby polish against her lips.

His face turned amused though when she ran the shade not only upon her mouth, but over her cheeks, her chin, and even over her jaw line. She drew the pigment over the bottom of her face until the wax had turned into a dull cherry nub.

There was a hesitation in the small room until she worriedly opened her eyes and glanced at the boy in front of her. "… _Do I look pretty…?"_ she asked, barely above an anxious whisper.

He just smiled as he bent forward and his eyelids drooped amiably. "… _You look…magnificent…"_ he responded in the same volume.

The girl's eyes expanded as he closed his and very lightly touched the tips of his lips against her bright red ones in a modest kiss.

Her eyes remained open as he slowly pulled away, but she asked in a small and uneasy voice. " _..c-could you…do that again…"_

His grin tilted some and he closed his eyes again, she closing hers in return, and the kiss this time had become more of a caress than a faint peck.

It was her first kiss, and now as her thoughts returned to his question, as he held his arms around her, she felt as if she still couldn't answer.

" _I don't know…"_ she whispered and his head slightly tilted up to look at her. She returned the motion.

The man's brown eyes welled with tears behind his glasses and he placed a hand upon her cheek. Ache searing through his gut as he browsed over her clouded eye and a wing of scars trailing beside it.

It was never his intention to agree that she go into medic training when the subject came up. He knew she wanted some sort of escape from her Aunt, but nothing that drastic. It was his own blasphemous ignorance that undermined the situation.

He had honestly thought she wasn't serious about the idea, and he damned himself nearly every day for not bringing up the subject of marriage. But he wanted her to live comfortable and unstrained, and become what she wanted to. He wouldn't subject her to the title of 'wife' even if he did love her with his whole heart. He wanted her to become her own identity. And she did.

 _ **XOXOX**_

She seemed to enjoy his abode when he had closed down the family dry cleaner business shortly after their reunion, bringing her back to the nearby dwelling.

The short haired woman smiled lightheartedly as she browsed the frivolously exotic decorations of sculpted, painted, and glass blown tigers casually surrounding his home. Her heartbeat became slower as she then gazed at the pictures lined up along his hallway of the generations of Gammelthorpes. It made her wish she had the same commodity.

The dark haired man gave a warm smile as he took her slightly rough hand into one of his. "Come on, I want to show you something." He spoke gently reassuring, as if he was trying to ease calmness into the air.

She nodded and inquisitively followed him down the quaint hallway and into a bigger sized room with a queen sized bed. Framed posters of different theatrical plays and musicals hung on the walls.

He walked over to one of the doors in the room, leading apparently to a closet. He walked in and she followed with curious interest; the tickle in her chest intensifying as she saw what was inside.

He grinned brightly as he showed her the side of the closet. The wall covered in various vibrant colors and scintillating clothing styles of silk, satin and fur.

"I've been collecting these over the past couple years…just stuff that I think you would like…so that when you got back...you could have them." He spoke, anxious for her reaction.

The woman just shook her head and gave him a susceptible gaze. " _I don't…I don't know what to say…"_

His smile turned delicate, as if the question might have prodded her vulnerable posture. "Will you try one on?"

She hesitated uneasily for a moment. " _I haven't…since…before…"_

He shook his head, demolishing his humble intentions completely. "You don't have to." And walked over to take her hands into his.

She managed a grin, lessening his slightly worried aura _. "I want too…it's just…"_ she shook her head again. " _I can't even remember…how I would even wear one…or walk in one. I remember once I had it down to an impeccable point…now…"_

He returned the smile and bent down to kiss the top of her hands. "Maybe it will come back to you…"

Despair clouded her thoughts, as it did frequently. " _You should return them…no one wants to see this face or this…damaged body in one of those lovely dresses…"_ she gazed over at silken scarlet number that cunningly nibbled on her desires like a tawny vixen.

He brought her vision back to him with two kind fingers, tenderly placed upon the side of her cheek. " _This face is lovely…and I do want to see you in one of them…the most expensive one…there is nothing damaged about you…"_

A tear came from her left eye but after several seconds of staring into his face, his admiring and devoted features, she couldn't help but be persuaded.

 _ **XOXOX**_

The woman gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

She saw a lot of images. One of a young elated princess, one of a scared and self conscious teenager, one of a desolated and shattered woman, but there was one that stood out. Not just the reflection of her passed mother in her own features. Not just of the militant that struggled alongside a throng of soldiers, but an identity. A vision of herself, a future not mirrored by the past, but mirrored by a fleck of hope.

She gave an amused grin as she stared into her dark, wax covered eyes. The pale pink blush that powdered her cheeks, nose and forehead. The dark scarlet dress that curved around her lanky waist, scrawny hips and long legs. The cushy white mink that covered her thin neck. And the fluffy rabbit that flowed down her back and circled around her slender arms.

But most of all, she grinned at the cherry red lipstick that colored her lips, chin and jaw. She had finally got to wear makeup.

Thaddeus looked up from his position sitting at the edge of the queen sized bed when the woman walked elegantly out of the bedroom's bathroom.

She stuck a haughty glare upon her facial features, a sassy twinkle in her eyes as she gave a teasing twirl and walked over to him, suddenly feeling a tad nervous again. She hesitated as he stood up from the bed with a euphoric smile. "… _Do I look pretty?"_

He just adoringly wrapped his arms around her waist, their fond eyes meeting in harmony. "Rhonda Lloyd, you look Magnificent." And the tip of his lips modestly touched hers.


End file.
